Open Your Eyes to Despair
by MythicDragonRider
Summary: A hypothetical on what happened to the 5 who woke up at the end of SDR2. They say that opening your eyes will only unravel guilt and despair.


**Salutations~!**

 **I highly suspect many of my other readers aren't into Danganronpa, so I might as well introduce myself.  
My penname is MythicDragonRider (which is outstandingly obvious), but I'd prefer it if you call me 'Mythic' instead.  
I typically write for Hetalia and a few other miscellaneous fandoms, but I recently got into this one, and I want to release a little hypothetical before the new anime comes out.**

 **It's the Winter holidays over where I live, so I might give you another one-shot in this universe before or after the new anime starts coming out. That being said, my friend and I are planning another killing game, but that shall take a while, and will probably be turned into a video game. Mighty timing, I know, but we are trying to create some 'parallel' storyline to make it possible, so the new anime and game will not interfere.**

 **Warning: a few dark themes. Also, I used their first names- sorry if you do not like that.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Open Your Eyes to Despair

His first sensation was nothing less than harrowing.  
Pain- horrid, foul pain- ripping through him, and cutting into him, and setting every nerve ablaze with the fury of the sins he'd committed. A conflagration of regret crudely mixed in with the unmistakable, human will to combat such things, to the extent of praying to gods he'd never dare believe in. The drums of the damned echoing through his skull as he struggled not to throw up or scream or rip a hole through his skin, only able to lay there in the worst feeling he'd ever been forced to bask in, sadistic sensation slicing through his skull.

The hope of the future formerly comforting him had degraded into a mere afterimage, barely lingering on his tongue, barely a ghost dawdling in this befouled body.  
Why, why, why was this happening? Being erased from existence was what had been promised, and was a much more wholesome fate than _this_ -

And why did he not scream? For this was worse than a thousand knives stabbing a thousand times over and over without any sign of remorse or hesitation. Sure, the physical pain was enough to make him screech in disgusting, delectable, desirable, dissonant despair.  
But there was something much more abhorrent raging on beneath the china-doll surface.

He was two people- Hajime Hinata, and Izuru Kamukura. Two outstandingly contrasting sides of the cruel spectrum, black-and-white was too black-and-white, so maybe he could just say blue and orange-  
But he just wanted this to-  
He was both-  
He was neither-  
He wanted all this pain and suffering to go, go. Far away. Where he might never see it again, and relax below the blue, blue, sky as the waves crash upon the not-so-ghastly-anymore beach he'd spent all his time yearning to leave...  
The sky can change abruptly, though. Why must dusk bring rays of guiltily beautiful orange across the darkening sky?

It wasn't something as terrible yet achingly simple as that scissor-wielding girl, or something as despairing yet achingly simple and either.

Hajime was Izuru, and Izuru was Hajime, and their fates were bound together like the all-too-simple binding of yarn.

* * *

Sonia knew she was a terrible person. That was a clear fact, right out in the open.  
She had the memories to prove it. She had the memories to prove the things she'd done. Filled with the terrible greed and twisted morals she'd wanted to leave behind in the blood-stained dust, but instead unwillingly grasped onto like a drowning man's flotsam.

Because that delectable despair was still worryingly present, just an arm's reach away, accessible at any time. It took all of whatever had been left of her broken self to hold back that hand and glare into that truthful mirror.  
What had become of her... She also had the physical proof, not just the mental.

And yet, she felt the encompassing feeling of guilt every time she took the effort to feel sorry for herself. After all, she was struggling, but not as much as her poor, dear friend who had to be kept in a medicine-smelling room for now, who had to have his hair cut for him, whose eyes felt empty yet determined, who insisted stumbling out of his hospital bed and watching a prioritized boat leave this wretched place behind, mustering up a meaningful gaze in order to convince his broken self.

He asked to be called Hajime, but wasn't sure anymore.

He had done the least out of all of them- not really anything at all! And, yet, he was condemned to the worst fate, a road of pain and suffering and unfathomable self-hate, maybe more than the rest of the awake ones combined.

Why was the universe so cruel? Why could she only linger by the sleeping ones, and mourn with the awake ones, and watch a broken boy struggle through everything she thought simple?

Their damnation followed her like a shadow.

* * *

Akane was frustrated with it all.

At this moment, she was capable of nothing. Nothing except watching her friends stay asleep. Except trying to understand the sins she'd committed in the long, unforgiving past.  
She talked with her friends, and slogged her way through the boring books she'd been forced to read, and tried to come to terms with it all... She tried her best not to feel her gut twist as she passed the room of a certain person.

But, mostly, she punched the wall and screamed and shouted and wanted them to wake up above all.

Who would be a better partner to fight with than Nekomaru? Who would be less likable and easier to threaten than Komaeda? Who would be a better person to engage in competitive eating with than Byakuya?  
Who could replace 11 people whom she had lived and laughed and fought and played with in a short but memorable time of highs and lows? No-one, because she didn't want anything less nor more than them.

In actual fact... Why couldn't she just replace her memories, and appearance? Why couldn't she trade in the despair she had felt for hope?

She just wanted them to wake up.

* * *

Kazuichi just didn't understand why this had to happen.

The despair he had felt in excruciating-to-look-back-on years. The fate of 15- or, rather, 14 (a downgrade that disconcerted him)- in possible forever-slumber. The pain of 3 others as they also struggled to come to terms with the past and present and future.  
The heart-wrenching state of a boy behind a hospital door.

Sonia (and sometimes Fuyuhiko) had talked a lot about that, Hajime's damnation. Now that everything felt too fragile to be broken by a single obsession with someone, he'd like to say he'd grown. It astonished him, though, how easily she chatted to him now.

He just wished this was all a dream. That he'd wake up, just like the others should, and see that, no, the world had not ended, and he was back in normal high school life, and everyone was alive and awake and not-broken.

Those were his wishes. But he wasn't in denial.

He was just terrified.

* * *

Fuyuhiko felt guilty, now.  
Not only was his eternal hatred of himself for killing in his yakuza life there, but also the terrible piling up of so many sins from things he wished had stayed behind a memory curtain.

He just couldn't fathom how terrible he had been. He couldn't forgive himself for giving in to despair so easily. He couldn't forgive himself for how weak he'd been, back then, when the temptation had been so strong. It still was, in actual fact.

Yet the only thing he dared pride himself on was the fact that he was managing to resist so furiously now.

The strongest motives to resist, for him, were two people. Obviously, there was Peko, still in her coma, not assured to open her eyes again some day. He felt guilty about not convincing her she was more than a tool to him earlier.  
But, there was also Hajime. He actually found that he was the one who frequented his room most often. It was just... His fate was so much worse than he could've ever dreamed, and deserved as much help as he could get fighting through it.

Maybe that was just him trying to forgive himself. He wasn't sure.

* * *

 **Urgh. I got progressively lazier. And Fuyuhiko and Sonia's were really similar. And I didn't explore the temptation of despair enough. Oh, well- I hope you liked it nonetheless.**

 **The first part is definitely my favourite. I'm satisfied with the language I used.**

 **Hope you enjoyed!**


End file.
